


As You Sleep

by Ontrose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/M, Hospital, Injury, M/M, alternative universe, patrick pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ontrose/pseuds/Ontrose
Summary: When Patrick is badly injured in a car crash he must fight for his life, unconscious in a hospital bed.He finds David in his sleep.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Rachel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	As You Sleep

Patrick fiddled with the knobs on the heater as soon as he had the car moving towards home, pulling the temperature from blue to red and gritting his teeth as he waited for the blast of icy air to turn warm. As he drove under the fluorescent lights he flicked through radio stations, searching for an agreeable voice. He settled on a station that had a smooth female voice and relaxed into his seat as warm air filled the cabin and thawed his frosty fingers.  
“Coming up next on 105.7, it’s ‘Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran, but first let’s…”

The low hum of the woman’s voice reminded him of how Rachel sounded, deep, smooth, and effortless. It reminded him of the early days when they’d watch old films like The Bribe and High Society. They would watch them over and over again in their shitty little apartment on that shitty little TV. They would act out the lines as a fun kind of foreplay, her voice deep and sultry as Ava Gardner as he tried to woo her as Robert Taylor. It was how they would entertain themselves on Saturday nights with a bottle of vodka when they couldn’t afford to do much else, the both of them poor students working part time for minimum wage. It had been a long time since that apartment on O’Connell Street, a long time since he was Frank Sinatra and she was Grace Kelly.  
There was a loud bang!  
The car propelled across to the opposite side of the road. Patrick gripped the wheel tight and fought against the pull of the burst tire. The tires screeched angrily as the car skid sideways. The car lost its traction on the road and it rolled, the momentum taking it off the side of the road. It crashed violently as it rolled into the ditch, metal and glass loudly crunching as the car came to a stop on its roof. 

Patrick wheezed heavily.. The first thing he felt was the strap of the seatbelt digging painfully into his neck. It pressed down on his windpipe, only allowing shallow wisps of air to pass. Tugging at the strap, he took a desperate breath in and was met with a sharp burning in his lungs. Tiny pieces of shattered glass were everywhere - on the roof, in his hair, lodged painfully where the seatbelt held him in place. It hung in the air like a silver mist of microscopic shards. He coughed hard, bringing a metallic taste to his mouth. Warm blood ran up the sides of his mouth and into his nose, pooling at the base of his throat. He coughed again as he choked on the blockage, spraying red over the car's interior. The movement dislodged a spray of glass from the underside of his chin, the tiny pieces rushing over his face to join the mass of glass that littered the roof.  
He took stock of the situation. He was suspended upside down by his seatbelt, which had done its job and locked into place across his torso to absorb the impact, but was now proving impossible to budge. He contemplated releasing the buckle but hesitated at the thought of falling headfirst into the crumpled debris of the roof. He hung there gasping, trying to get some air through to his lungs.

Grey smoke billowed from the hood of the car and made it impossible to see outside. The smell of burning rubber filled the cabin and the bitter taste mixed at the back of his mouth with the taste of blood. He let his arms fall down to the roof, finding the effort of lifting them too taxing. The carpeted roof of the car was wet to the touch. Had he landed in a lake? Was he going to drown? A panic overtook him and he tried to release the buckle of the seat belt, wrapping his free arm protectively around his head. The buckle wouldn’t budge. He knew he needed to get out of the car and find help, but his arms were getting heavier and his vision started to dim around the edges. Drops of red fell in front of his eyes, and he realised that it was his own blood that was dampening the roof, not water. His stomach churned and bile seared his bloodied throat as it rushed up and out of his mouth, running up his face. Everything slipped away into black. 

~

A persistent ringing in his ears pulled him back to consciousness. The pain in his skull was immediate and intense. The temperature had dropped and he had begun to shake. His face was tacky with blood and bile, and his arms hung above him lifelessly. He couldn’t move them - they felt like lead, his whole body did. Opening his eyes was an effort, his lashes crusted together in blood. How long had he been hanging here? Outside was still obscured by grey smoke, all he could see was the ruined inside of his car. The cream roof was now a deep red and he wondered how much blood he had lost. How many litres did people have? Five? Six? How much blood loss was too much? The ringing in his ears grew to a wailing and he registered that it was an ambulance siren in the distance. He prayed it was for him. His body felt weaker than it had before and he whimpered as he make another attempt to move. Tears flooded his eyes.  
He waited in the darkness as the siren got louder, terrified it wouldn’t stop. His eyes fell closed again, having only energy left enough to listen. The siren got close then went silent, and was replaced with the sound of a large engine idling and several voices which quickly moved in his direction. He peeled his eyes open again, trying to find them in his fuzzy vision as they drew close. Their footsteps crunched as they neared the wreck, windshield glass underfoot.

Suddenly a male voice was right beside him. 

“Sir, can you hear me? You’ve had an accident.” Warm fingers pressed against his neck and he wanted to speak. His forehead tightened as he dryly swallowed and tried to reply. No words came. He heard a raspy whine and hazily realised that he was making it. 

He felt hands move to his face and his whole body jolted as his eyes were confronted with a bright light.  
“Can you tell me your name?” He thought about both questions as a brace was manoeuvred around his neck. He couldn’t find an answer to either and scrunched his eyes shut as he searched for an answer. His name...what was his name?

“Let’s keep those eyes open, yeah? We need to keep you awake.”

Scratchy voices sounded over the radio but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. The man seemed to hear them fine and replied.

“One male in the vehicle, Caucasian, late 20’s, bleeding profusely from a laceration to the forehead, showing limited responses. ” Suddenly it came to him.

“Patrick … my name is Patrick,” he wheezed. It felt foreign on his tongue and he wondered if it really was his name.

“Okay Patrick”, the man leant his head through the window so Patrick could see him in the corner of his vision, and he felt steady hands on his neck again. “Let’s keep your head as still as we can”. The man smiled at him reassuringly, like Patrick wasn’t hanging upside down and bleeding. He tried to offer a smile back. “We’ve going to get you out of here Patrick, we’re just waiting on the ‘Fireies’ so we can get you out of the car.”  
“I’ve made a bit of a mess of the car, have I?”  
The man let out a heavy breath as he continued his assessment of Patrick, not quite a laugh, “ Quite a mess.”

As Patrick’s eyes drifted from focus the paramedics smile dropped from his face.. 

“Patrick? Can you here me?” 

Patrick heard loud voices before everything went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this is going yet, but I'm optimistic that it’s going somewhere.


End file.
